Penance for my Sins
by Hylander McLeod
Summary: With Wolfram and Hart's plans thwarted Angel seeks another way save Darla's life. A riddle from an unexpected guest and glimpse into the past, give Angel hope, but is the hope too great? And what of Buffy's troubles in Sunnydale. Old friends and enemies reunite once more as two paths cross again.
1. Intervention

Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns all things Buffy.

note- writing this in parallel with My Own Worst enemy which is a precursor for this fic.

* * *

**Intervention**

"How did you think this would end."

Angel struggled in the commando's grasp. Normally a quartet of humans, even mercenaries wouldn't pose much of a problem. His strength however, or at this moment lack of it, presented a problem. The effects of the taser had yet to wear off, and with the other two holding Darla prisoner…..

Drusilla began to glide closer to Darla, excitement in her eyes, only to suddenly fall forward.

"Obviously not like this."

All eyes turned to the door. The figure stood in the doorway, cloaked by the shadows from the dark streets and the evening sky.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Angel tore free of his captors, seeing but a gun placed to Darla's temple by one the two remaining men holding her, stopped in his tracks.

"This matter is not your concern. Leave"

The intruder took a step into the room, his features now visible to the group. The figure was male, standing just over six feet, platinum grey hair falling just shy of his shoulders, his head slightly bowed hiding the rest of his facial features from view.

"You may as well be talking to a mirror." The man's voice was cold, but nonetheless just as threatening as Wolfram and Hart's soldiers.

The men readied themselves in case of attack, but relaxed some when Drusilla, who had risen to her feet, now in full vamp face swept past them. She looked angrily at the one who kicked her. "You'll pay."

It was almost too fast to see, but Angel had caught a glance of the object strapped to the man's wrist. A fire orb hit the female vampire in the chest and vanished just as quickly.

Drusilla's game face suddenly faded, her human visage returning. "Hot."

The commandos, Darla, and even Angel had a look of utter bewilderment. Evident confusion set in on the face of each occupant in the room.

"Hot, hot." Drusilla's cries continued, her nails raking her skin seeking to remove the scorching pain within her undead body. As everyone in the room watched on, a flame burst from within the mad vampire's chest enveloping her as she screamed.

Within seconds Drusilla had vanished along with the blaze. Nothing remained to suggest she ever was there, not even a trace of her ashes.

The intruder took a step further into the room.

"That takes of the main problem." Drawing his hands behind his shoulders, he pulled out a pair of swords."Scum like this"- he paused, flipping them in his arms, reversing the grip, his eyes never falling off the Wolfram and Hart mercenaries, "- I prefer the old-fashioned approach."

Even with his vampire's senses, what happened was too fast for Angel to follow. Like a whirlwind tornado, and in the very image of one, the attacker spun through the motel room. The movements, quick and agile, done with such precision and swiftness, none of the men had a chance to scream as the blows landed, the blades slicing the air and severing flesh; hitting their intended targets. Within seconds it was all over. Blood splattered the walls and carpet; heads, limbs and torsos lay out on the floor. What had been the Wolfram and Harts muscle group, was now a pile of assorted body parts.

The figure sheathed his swords and turned around, raising his bowed head.

Angel, astonished by the brutality displayed here just now, was holding a comatose Darla, having used the opportunity granted by the man's presence to grab Darla out of the clutches of the vile humans who had been about to turn her back into the thing she had now come to hate; a vampire, and, if not for the timely intervention provided, no doubt would have succeed. He knew this person: Kylar.

In their first encounter, just over two years earlier, the man had come off as smug and annoying. Angel had remembered it quite well. He had just returned from hell, spit out from Acathla's dark dimension, where he endured was the harshest of punishments and the most brutal of tortures, only to discover the presence of the intruder when he came to. The aura that vibrated off of him, though initially arrogant and sarcastic, was nothing compared to Angel was sensing now. Brains weren't his only weapon. This man was dangerous. Dangerous so much, Angel wasn't sure if his relief at the situation was rather misplaced.

Hearing movement within the room, Angel tensed up. Both men turned to the attention of the source. Lindsey McDonald, the remaining survivor of Wolfram and Hart's entourage was pressed into a corner, his eyes wide in fear.

"Lindsey McDonald."

The young lawyer looked shocked. He was certain Angel was about to beat him senseless, both for the taser and the plot, not necessarily equally for both and also not necessarily in that order. Yet it had been the other male who had addressed, one Lindsey didn't know and from what he had seen, was equally dangerous. The hard expression that framed that face, completely unreadable; much like a coiled cobra, only reinforced it. He was not looking forward to losing any more body parts.

Kylar stepped forward. His expression changed; his lips forming into a smile, his eyes brightening. "So you believe immortality to be a blessing in disguise." If possible his eyes turned even more friendly, his smile becoming wider, broader. He approached as he spoke, his footsteps bringing to an arm's length of the lawyer, who had by risen to his feet, albeit shakily, and was resting against the one wall in the room that hadn't been marred by blood.

"Forever young, forever young, I want to be forever young."

Angel knew what was coming. He could sense the depths of that facade, from the sweet sounding words, purposely spoken in that false friendly manner, to the fake smile displayed on Kylar's face.

Lindsey did not.

Being privy to such thoughts proved costly, as Kylar's left arm shot out without warning, grabbing the young lawyer by his face. The mask of a civility had fallen, the eyes once again narrowed and darkened, the smile fading away once more into the grim expression. "Do you truly want to live forever?"

Lindsey fear intensified. Briefly he wondered if it were better he had been on the receiving side of Angel's blows than the suffocating grasp of this stranger, though it unlikely the vampire would be any less merciful. He felt himself become weaker, his eyes closing despite his struggles to keep open.

Releasing his hold on the Texan, Kylar stepped away and let Lindsey drop to the ground. He turned towards Angel, who was now supporting a awaken Darla, helping her stay on her feet. "I should charge you for the dry cleaning" he stated in monotone pointing out his own blood-stained itinerary.

"Why did you help us?" Darla asked, finding her voice.

Kylar's expression didn't change. "I came to teach a lesson. Though it seems your lesson's been learned." His voice was emotionless, almost robotic. Sparing one last glance at the two the man headed for the door. He stopped at the mention of his name, turning to look at the one who had spoken.

"Please, help me save her." Angel could feel the desperation in his own words.

Kylar's expression hadn't changed. He looked the other up and down before meeting his eyes. "You ask the impossible. My art is death, not life. Or didn't I demonstrate that for you?" He looked disapprovingly at Angel. "Perhaps another of your company might be better suited for such matters."

"None of my team can perform miracles and you know it." Angel replied angrily at the fighter's retreating back. He clenched his fists in frustration and anger, refusing to accept that all he had been through, the pain he endured to give Darla a second chance was for nothing.

"Are you a dwarf or a giant?"

Angel's despair increased. The reply, from what he thought had been Darla's savior, had been blunt and emotionless, a reminisce of the attitude shown during their first meeting.

Kylar took one final glance at the vampire before continuing. "Look to the past to make sense of the present. All things are made clearer through time."

* * *

No my OC didn't pull a pryo on Drusilla, you simply have to find out later what it was


	2. Truth Within The Word

Disclaimer- Hold no ownership rights to Buffy the Vampire slayer or Angel the Series. Things would have been a hell of a lot different if I did.

* * *

**Truth Within The Word**

Angel was motionless as Kylar left the bloodied, marred scene of the motel room. While this wasn't his first dealing with the stranger and despite his wanting, the vampire's sixth sense told him it would not doubt, not be his last. The often reserved swordsman, with his haughty and indifferent attitude, may have only softly hinted, and a less man wouldn't have picked on it, but Angel now knew, the other had come to enact punishment. Punishment for lesson not learned. Such actions were reminiscent of the ones in Sunnydale.

Still, Kylar's timely aid and intervention notwithstanding, Angel was now left with two problems to deal with. Darla's days were still numbered and on top of that there was the mess of blood and dismembered body parts in the motel room. The police would be out in full force, alerted to the scene by any random passerby with even a shred of humanity, and given the influence of Wolfram and Hart, his team would no doubt be on the receiving end of unwarranted payback. That is if Darla wouldn't be suspected first. He had to get her out of here.

Angel felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Charming guy."

Darla. Angel had been focused on the problems at hand, he had all but forgotten the presence of his former sire, now turned human, come up beside him.

"I met him before." He turned towards Darla, grabbing both her shoulders with his strong arms. "We have to get of here. Now" Taking her hand in his own , the other wrapped around her, he started leading her out of the room. A second soft hand upon his own caused him to stop.

"Wait" She said, before turning back towards Lindsey who still lay passed out by the wall. She approached the man she had took comfort in for some time; the man who idly stood by and did nothing as the crazed Drusilla almost turned her into a vampire once more.

The young lawyer's was beginning to come to, as his stirred. "Darla", he began, his voice soft, almost pleading "don't-".

Her foot connected Lindsey's torso, knocking the breath out of him and putting him back into unconsciousness. That kick was followed up by a second one to his shin. Satisfied, she walked towards Angel and took his hand. "Let's go."

* * *

"HE HASN'T CHECKED BACK.?" Cordelia Chase's scream rang through the Hyperion lobby.

Charles Gunn had opted not to be the voice, remaining where he was; leaning against one of the walls of the room.

Wesley on the other hand tried to console the woman, suggesting she calm down, though instantly regretting, the moment the words left his mouth.

The young woman continued pacing around Angel's office, the same place she'd been in for the past three and half hours, resting occasionally but still pacing most of the time. "Remain Calm?"she countered, looking the British man.

"You're asking me to remain calm while my boss is out on some haphazard scheme, probably not thinking with his head, all because he feels guilty for something that's not even his fault to begin with?" She let out a shriek before resting on one of the couches. "I swear this whole Darla thing is going to-"

The sound of the lobby doors opening caused the brunette to stop in midsentence. The three rushed out to the lobby to encounter Darla, escorted by Angel, their expressions not possibly more contrasting. The blonde woman's face seemed peaceful, accepting her of her inevitable fate. In contrast the vampire's looks was one of complete worry; of hopelessness. Whatever had transpired in the time passed, it couldn't have led to much good, given that look.

Wesley had been the first to break the silence. "Angel, what has happened?"

"Yeah C here's been acting like crazy." Gunn added.

Angel looked at his team. "I'll fill you in later. Once I've gotten her settled" he indicated towards Darla. The two began to ascend up the staircase to the second floor.

"Uh, as far from my room as possible, please" Cordelia retorted.

Angel paid no head to the woman's words, as the two kept climbing. Reaching the second floor he led Darla to the room across his, before guiding towards a chair. "You should rest." He told her before leaving.

"Angel".

He stopped at the door. He had spoken his name. _His. _Not the one of his soulless counterpart. He glanced at her.

"Thank you."

Angel nodded at her, a silent sign of thanks for acknowledgment, and closed the door.

* * *

After coming downstairs Angel relayed the story to his team, not leaving out a single detail, all from his facing the trials to Lindsey's scheme, and Kylar's, while unwanted, impeccable appearance, along with his indifferent attitude towards Angel's request.

"Let me get this straight." Gunn spoke questioningly. "This dude hacked up four mercs, put country boy in a face hold and then just walked away?"

Angel nodded.

The office was silent. No one said a word, each member of Angel Investigations lost in their own musings.

Wesley had heard mention of the mysterious intruder's earlier exploits, particularly the one involving Quentin Travers, with whom Kylar acted in a similar matter after the Slayer's Cruciamentum which resulted Giles's termination as watcher and his appointment as successor to that post. Of course, it was from Giles that he had heard the story, back when he had boasted of his mediocre skills. It was also before the Council had terminated his employment, sacked him from his position without so much as a return airline ticket, leaving him stranded on the west coast leading him in his current position: assistant to somewhat private detective involving the supernatural.

Cordelia for her part was still fixed on grueling challenges that Angel described, particularly the final two. She still did not understand why Angel was willing to risk so much, and especially for Darla of all people. What if there hadn't been a key in the pool of water? Or what if the barrage stakes truly had hit their mark instead of vanishing?

Gunn had little to think on the matter, but had more than his two cents as for what was to come. No doubt Lindsey's co-workers would be circling the wagons, grasping at straws for another plan. Question was how much should they have to worry. "So what now?"

"Get some rest." Angel answered. "Prepare for tomorrow. Wolfram and Hart won't let this go away."

* * *

Despite his own suggestion, Angel was in full thinking mode. Both rest and sleep eluded him. He lay on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His mind kept racing a mile a minute, resulting of the events of day. Darla's inevitable death, a slow and painful one much like her first would have been if the Master had not turned her during her final minutes, was still weighing on him. And the weight was quite heavy. Barring any chance of miracle she was destined to relive her old life, the difference being this time she truly would pass on. It was only a matter a time

_Time. _

Angel shot up into a sitting position. It wasn't obvious then, as he had been in complete desperation, but the hints had been there. Past. Present. Time.

"Willow."

* * *

Yes indeed. It's everyone's favorite witch.

I am also preparing the first chapter on My Own Worst Enemy. I hope to have it up in two weeks. As for my compilation stories, I may have Crime and Punishment up before Siblings in Arms as writing Faith's defection to Connor's side is a hard part to write in this. Still haven't decided if Connor would reveal being Angel's son in this one (I'm thinking Willow's, Faith's minds are still wiped of Angel ever having a son. They weren't present when Wesley smashed the Orlorn Window)


	3. Journey's Abound

Disclaimer- Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series both are property of Joss Whedon

Note- If you have not yet discovered, you may be about to find out that I am a bit of a sadist

* * *

**Journey's Abound**

"Angel you can't be serious." Cordelia shouted in exasperation. "I mean we're talking about the one woman solely responsible for your hundred years of gloom and doom, shoulder hunched, head down "woe is me" attitude."

Darla looked away. Had it not been enough she herself would be reminded, towards the end of her all presumably very short life, of the countless misdeeds she inflicted on Angel. All the decades he spent compounded with guilt for the lives he had taken, most if not all of which, were at her encouragement and her teachings; she would be constantly reminded of it until she drew her least breath. Did his friends really have to further fuel that inferno?

Charles Gunn for his part chose not to speak, instead deciding to remain Switzerland. Privately, his thoughts drifted back on Alona, his sister whom he himself was forced to stake. Then again, from what he had heard, Alona had not done anything vile unlike Darla had.

Angel looked sternly at Cordelia. "Revenge is not what we're about." His hand firmly grasped Darla's, fearful of her response. "Besides. I didn't amount to much better before her." He paused briefly, letting nostalgia overtake him to that one night all those decades ago. "I guess some of need to damned in order to born."

The two stared down each other, Cordelia in frustration and Angel in disapproval. The stare down stood several minutes before the young woman's shriek broke the silence. "I can't deal with this." She cried, throwing her arms up, before dropping them once more and departing up the stairs towards her room.

"We need to go now" Angel stated." While it's still overcast. Wes, you're in charge while I'm gone."

"Angel." Wesley called out. "A word if I may."

Leaving Darla in the lobby, the vampire motioned for Wesley to follow him outside to the garden. The former watcher complied, accompanying Angel till they were well out of earshot of both Gunn and Darla.

"While I understand we are in the business of helping people, I feel you are too close this." Wesley let out a breath before continuing. "You're taking this rather personally."

"You're right" Angel retorted "But it's still something I have to do."

Anticipating Wesley's reply Angel continued "You'll know when I know."

* * *

Wolfram and Hart's boardroom was empty save for two people. The figures both male, both dressed in custom designed suits, were on the topic of discussion of the night's recent events. The

"I-I can still rectify this" Lindsey stammered. "We know where she is. All we ne-"

"My apologies Lindsey" Manners interrupted, left hand raised in a stop talking gesture. "As much as I do like you, the Senior Partners have made their decision. This is isn't the only matter you've handled poorly. You've become a liability to this firm and that's simply unacceptable."

He reached into his suit's jacket with his right arm before continuing. " So in the words of the great American Donald Trump.-" the elder lawyer retracted his hand revealing the concealed gold pleated .22RL before aiming it at the younger man's head "-sorry but you're fired."

_Bang_

It was hard to say whose shock was greater. The bullet, aimed straight and true, hit its intended target- Lindsey's skull. It had flown at top speed, embedding itself in the middle of the young lawyer's forehead yet did subsequently no damage. The younger lawyer remained on his feet, very much alive, albeit in some pain from the metal grazing into his flesh. Incensed, Holland Manner fired a second shot, directly in the trajectory of the first; hoping that the subsequent shell would push the prior through the brain and, in Lindsey's words, rectify the problem.

It didn't help matters.

As if by air magic, the very same shell, that had tore like a bat out hell from the handgun chamber, screeched to a halt mere micrometers from the one that made its mark. The sister bullets grazed each other, almost tangential, much like Siamese twins, remaining there for several seconds. Manners's eyes widened in shock as that same second bullet, held back by some mystical force, a barrier of unknown or unexplained nature, careened back just as ominously towards where it was fired from. The speed of the ricochet and the force driving it caused the weapon to shatter. Shrapnel decorated the walls, windows, furniture and Holland Manners's hand.

"Did you honestly believe I'd make it that easy ?"

Both men turned in the direction of the new voice.

The doors once firmly locked, were now pushed open, most likely done so during at the precise time the handgun had been reduced to scrap metal or when the trigger was pulled, no doubt timed to the very exact second, so as to conceal his presence.

Kylar stood there, leaning against the opened doors, his posture rather relaxed but his eyes cold, empty. Unlike the last time he was not dressed in a ninjitsu outfit in 17th century clothing, most likely that of nobility as indicated by the bronzed embroidery and symbols on his upper attire. Like the last time he still wore the colors of shinobi black, the same aura of mystery still present around him. His new look was accompanied by long heavy overcoat, hanging loosely off his shoulders covering the sides of his legs. In his left arm he toyed with a silver coin, occasionally rolling it over his fingers or tossing it up and down.

Lindsey shuddered inside as the man had stepped into the room. Kylar's eyes, still cold and hollow, glanced at him ever so slightly as they scanned the room, before settling directly upon those of the remaining occupant in the room. T

"What is the meaning of this?"

Holland Manners was livid. Lindsey had failed. Darla had escaped. Angel had once bested them. On top of that he was failing to get rid of a liability. A costly liability the Senior Partners had tasked him to deal with.

Kylar's expression did not change. Briefly his eyes glanced at the metal still seated deep in Manners's wrist and palm hand. "The meaning is simple. Lindsey McDonald is, presently outside your reach. So long as he is under my -" he paused briefly searching for the right word "-tutelage, he is irreproachable."

Lindsey felt a wave of relief wash over him, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Kylar had made it clear last night he wasn't a friend. Not to him anyway. But if this man was the only thing keep him standing- nay- keeping him _living,_ who was he to complain. The young lawyer let out a breath he had been holding. It would be best stay out of this confrontation.

Manners took a step forward. "That .22 was a gift from President Nixon. And I will be adding to those charges, mind you."

"Ah yes the Watergate scandal." Kylar raised his palms up, shoulders half shrugged. The corners of his mouth turned upwards just slightly, the slightest smirk evident on his lips."He truly thought you'd bail him out of it. Little did he know."

Lindsey couldn't believe what he was seeing, let alone hearing. Angel himself hadn't bothered with such tactics. This person not only had the gall to break into Wolfram &amp; Hart, he took it a step further. The bullet in his head, with him still living, the scraps of metal from the .22 in Holland's arm, his lax devil may care expression, one that did not match his cold narrow hawks glare…. yes this no doubt one battle not to involve himself in.

Holland Manners's expression was blank, his mouth hanging open. This intruder _knew _about _that. _This would no doubt not bode well. He opened his mouth to speak at the man's retreating back.

"Before you decide to bank your threats or checkbook you shoulder consider my raison d'être." Kylar's stated coldly. The slightly amusing behavior was gone from both his voice and his face. He turned his head towards the elderly lawyer, his cobalt-like eyes meeting Manners's surprised one. "I'm not Judas. And you're no Roman tribune. There's not a price you can offer I'd be willing to charge."

* * *

The GXT flew at top speed down the road. Through the side and rearview mirrors glimpses of the Los Angelos skyline were visible yet neither vehicle occupant paid the much heed.

Angel sat in the driver's seat, his foot pressed firmly down on the accelerator as far as it would allow, squeezing as much speed as the 375 super powered V8 engine could muster. His hands grasped the steering wheel, almost white, from the death-like grip executed, as if it would be torn from him should he let go. His face, a marble slab, unreadable and expressionless, the utter look of determination, one that could only be reflected by his eyes, as he drove on.

Beside him in the passenger seat, Darla was nowhere as calm. She figited every now and again in trepidation, whether from returning to the seemingly blissful, happy town that ever so easily turned into an eerie dreadful place, or from seeing people she had not seen in over two years, the same people whom, when did last them, were on the receiving ends of pair of colt 45, or perhaps from both. She had awakened this morning, still ever content to live out whatever remaining days fate would grant her. She hadn't expected Angel and the others to up in full force arguing over the course of action to take, some of them whether they should be taking any course to begin with. Angel ended the argument decisively despite, the ever present dissent from Cordelia who later departed upstairs but not before having set her cents, throwing hardest of salt crystals into the deepest of wounds.

Angel took notice to his companions uneasiness.

"Is something wrong?"

Darla took a breath. They had not spoken a words since the hotel. Still it felt nice to break the silence.

"Why Sunnydale?"

"Willow." Angel tone was soft, soothing even, but his eyes remained on the road.

"The Slayer's friend?" Darla questioned.

She still recalled the mousy timid redhead that Buffy had befriend and, from her espionage actions as a vampire, had spent time in the high school library with the blonde. The same redhead that had informed said blonde, shouting over the fired bullets, of the true identity of the attacker of Joyce Summers. "Angel I'm not exactly high on her welcome list."

"She restored my soul. Maybe she could help you."

Darla was awestruck. The slayer's friend, that shy nervous geek, had dabbled in magic. And not just any magic but an exact replica of the Ritual of Restoration, the curse performed by the gypsies ages ago. Magics that were thought to have been lost within history. In her time as vampire, she along with Spike and Drusilla had slaughtered much the Kalderash tribe, retribution taking Angelus away from her. So how had the girl come to possess them. Had the girl come to know someone of the tribe, a descendant perhaps. The Restoration spell couldn't have been the tip of the iceberg, it wasn't something a novice could perform. Had the girl's introduction in the black arts begun in high school. In her musings Darla realized she had missed the importance of the Angel's words.

"Restored your soul?" Darla questioned. "Does that mean-"

"Yes." Angel interrupted. "The curse failed."

Had she still been a vampire, or intent on becoming one, Darla would have cackled with glee. The return of Angelus, _her darling boy,_ would have made her ecstatic. Now she was unsure how to react. The way Angel had spoken, the bluntness in his tone upon when he cut her off mid-speech and the cold and quiet words in confirmation, had no doubt left its toll on the ensouled vampire. It was equally evident Angel had become traumatized by the happening. There slight presence of fear in his voice, Darla didn't doubt that he wasn't the only one effected. She pondered briefly if he would divulge in the specifics of being stripped of his soul, and if she should bother to ask, given Angel's loyalties during that time. Among other things.

The drive turned quiet. Darla would occasionally steal glances in Angel's direction when she thought he wouldn't be looking, before once again just as quickly diverting her attention to the horizon, the road, or the overcast sky which made it possible for Angel to drive in the daytime, in such proximity to the sun without any protection should those golden rays peak out of the cloudbank.

"Avoiding the question doesn't help your cause. Or mine"

_Of course_. She may not be a vampire any longer but Angel still was. And that made her body language susceptible to read, especially for Angel. Had she truly forgotten that much?

"What? is it" Angel questioned.

The words.

Darla swallowed uncomfortably. Despite not looking her way a single time during their conversation, Angel did sense

'Out with it then' she thought.

"How"?

"What?" Angel asked

"Your soul." She questioned. "How did you lose it?"

Angel squinted his eyes. Yet try as he might, he could not conceal the single tear that fell.

"Long story."

* * *

So my OC his up to his once again up to his shenanigans. Angel and Darla are headed for Sunnydale. I added the Nixon thing for laughs.

Pardon the delay. The only thing worse than being a sadist is being a sadist hit by depression.

My Own Worst Enemy is still the works. I really have to figure out how to write the chapters from Angel's perspective while focusing on all of the details. I've also begun work on another project entitled Between the Wrong and Right (visit my profile to check out the plot summary.)


	4. First Impressions

Disclaimer- you already know

* * *

**First Impressions**

_It was quiet. _

_Dark and quiet. Quiet of conversation perhaps, but not of noise. And though there only two figures present within the room, it was clear to anyone with a shred of insight, this was no friendly exchange._

_The surroundings of the stone wall room gave it almost a dungeon like atmosphere, skulls and bone remains littered the cold floor, strewn about here and there. Torches lined the stone walls, steel grates hung on the few arched windows, a thick hardwood door with metal lock could be seen in the far corner._

_In the center of the room, two figures were interlocked in fierce combat. The attacker, a blonde, were 18__th__ clothing of boots, pants and black vest etched with silver embroidery, Above the vest he wore a white bow-tie ascot. Over his vest he worse a loose fitting jacket, black with golden-yellow trim, with a high collar that seemed to lap at his ankles. Over the jacket he wore a simple black cape. Within his hands a large broadsword reminiscent of those used by medieval knights._

_The second figure, hair of a platinum shade of grey, wore a garb of the closely resembling the United States Military. The costume consisted of combat boots, pants, camouflaged shirt, and a black bandana. His palms were wrapped in lather wrist wrapping. Unlike his opponent his choice was weapon was staff, also of metal, with which he deflected the attacker's blows, in continued success, from which ever angle they came, stepping backwards as he did so._

_Changing his tactic, the staff holder, swiftly changed the positioning of his choice of weapon, shifting hit horizontally and slamming it in the attacker's neck. The force of the blow, distracted the sword bearer, knocking the weapon from his hands. Taking advantage of the opportunity, the other fighter leapt forward, right elbow extended catching his opponent in the head, before following up with a thrust of the staff to the gut. The combined blows, from the hands and the weapon landed the other fighter on his back several feet away._

_Just as the other jumped forward staff overhead, about to deliver the finishing blow, the fallen opponent shifted into a grey mist and vanished, leaving his would be attacker by his lonesome. _

_Slightly vexed, the man dropped his staff, letting it fall to the ground. _

"_Another day Tepes."_

_He felt a faint flow of liquid down his face. Bringing his hand to his left check he traced the source of the discomfort. A lone single scar marred his guise, stretching from the bottom of his left eye to corner of his mouth._

* * *

Night once again descended upon the quiet unsuspecting town of Sunnydale, the thick blanket of shadows enveloping the skies over the quaint and otherwise peaceful suburban community, once again marking the rise for the not so worldly creatures of this realm to go about their business safe and secure, without exposure as the normal town residents were in the dark of their existence. This ongoing practice, ongoing for over century since the towns founding by the recently deceased- or rather dismembered mayor Richard Wilkins- recently a little over a year ago, had been a repeating affair leaving no trace of its happening on the minds of town residents. Residents who remained both unaware of the presence of beings only thought to have existed in fictions works and their fancies and blatantly ignorant of the truth of such matter when faced with it head on. Rather than accept what they saw with their own two eyes, they chose to believe the cleverly fabricated lies and false explanations presented by authority figures as that was the norm to do so, what they themselves had been taught by the previous generation and what they in turn fed to the one to succeed them.

Angel did understand the need for such tactics. The right information in the wrong hands was a lethal mix; a painful hassle no doubt unwanted. There are some matters people best not be privy to. Their blindness within this matter kept things quiet and prevented all things short of complete pandemonium and complete chaos, events could just as easily be brought on a by a rather known disaster, natural or manmade. Humanity had not a clue nor did they want one. They went on about their days in routine fashion performing their obligations when needed and enjoying life's offers when affordable.

Still not all those in Sunnydale were completely ignorant. There were exceptions to the rule.

Those who knew more. Who knew better.

Such as the family of the house they stood outside of.

Angel looked over at his companion. Darla had been fidgety all day since they arrived. If she were nervous then, he knew not a word which best fit her present description. The former vampire had been skeptical of Angel's plan. If it could be called one. Her reluctance did not fade. Not during the drive from Los Angeles, nor during the hours spent after their arrival.

Giving Darla a re-assuring look, though one he himself doubted, the vampire rang the bell and waited for the inevitable.

After a few minutes door opened, revealing a young a girl of about 14 with long brown hair and a moody expression.

Angel smiled warmly.

Dawn Summers. Buffy's younger sister.

One of the few who knew the truth of what lay beneath the seemingly placid and tranquil piece of suburbia known as Sunnydale. The last time he had seen her was the night before graduation. Angel had arrived unexpectedly, hoping Joyce would be otherwise occupied at the gallery- another best laid plan gone astray- as the woman had been just arrived home minutes ago. Upon letting the youngest Summers know he would soon be leaving town, most likely not to return the young girl threw a fit. When he tried to leave she had become hysterical. The parcel containing his gift lay on the floor abandoned and forgotten as the latched herself onto his coat, her small fists grasping the material in a death-like grip, the vampire thought she might actually tear the fabric. It wasn't until Angel dropped to one knee, meeting her at eye level and embraced her, his arms wrapped around her small form and promised she'd see him again that the girl had somewhat calmed down.

She had grown since.

"Dawnie," the vampire acknowledged.

"Hi Angel." She skipped out to greet him, only to freeze when she noticed her sister's ever estranged ex-boyfriend wasn't alone. A second later she had realized who he was with. The young girl's happy expression turned to fear and trepidation as she backpedaled inside the house where the two figures couldn't touch her.

"Oh no, oh no, not again. Not you again" She babbled, horrified.

Angel's brows shifted. Dawn hadn't met Darla not even glimpsed her; that much he'd known. The girl had been away back when his sire had sought to pit the slayer and him against one another, hoping he'd kill the annoying slayer and revert to his soulless persona. The girl had yet to know of the existence of vampires and the likes, having been kept in the dark of such things deliberate for her own good. Seeing how Buffy wouldn't be as forth coming the only conclusions he'd come to was either one of the scoobies had spilled the beans or she'd still been peaking at big sister's diary.

Now was not the time dwell on the how's and why's. He'd had to resolve the situation quickly and peacefully before the girl's words brought others and accusations weren't the only thing flying around. He took a slight stepped arms raised.

"Dawn wait a minute. You don't-

But the girl was beyond consoling at this point. She huddled within the safety of the house, where she'd known, the vampire's couldn't get her. While Darla could come in, Angel had been previously invited, an invocation that was later revoked, albeit temporarily, as he'd once more been invited, after having been cured of his soulless sabbatical and returned to this dimension. That second invitation was never revoked. Angelus could easily enter the hose drag her outside where she'd be a helpless meal for two vampires standing outside. Locking the door, she turned her head towards the stairs, she gulped as much air as lungs would allow and uttered a high pitched cry.

"BUFFYYYYYYYYYY!"

Drat. This was the exactly the type of encounter Angel had hoped to avoid. "Get behind me" he whispered.

Darla nodded and did so, with seconds to spare. No sooner than former vampire shuffled to hide herself behind Angel, frame, the slayer had emerged from above stake in hand and instincts at the ready as a terrified Dawn running to meet her halfway, her finger pointing out towards the doorway.

"It's _him _again." The younger girl whispered.

Buffy looked past her at Angel. He had an upset and slightly embarrassed look on his face."

"Dawn, go upstairs" she commanded.

Dawn nodded and so without argument, scurrying up to staircase and out of sight.

The slayer waited until her sister had gone. Approaching, the now locked door, she opened it to find Angel- she'd known it was Angel from the weary expression and slightly hunched posture. Besides, Angelus would not be so casual in announcing his presence. Nonetheless that didn't make things any better.

"What was so important this time that you couldn't use the phone?" she asked.

Angel pondered a bit, how to answer. As he expected, the slayer wouldn't take too kindly to his impromptu unannounced visit. And depending on how he answered, their already rocky relationship could become even more impaired.

"Well are you going to tell me or do I have to play 20 questions?" she asked, switching from annoyance to anger.

"She's taller than I remember."

Even from her vantage point, hidden from view, Darla could tell their situation hadn't improved. Whether it was Angel's choice of words or attempt to break the ice, Buffy remained in full anger mode. She was ready to step out from behind Angel and reveal herself to put an end to the Mexican standoff, when the slayer spoke up, no doubt still annoyed and angry.

"Would you please tell me what's going on."

Angel sighed. "I need help. There's been a …. complication."

"Such as?" Confusion marred the slayer's face.

Slowly, Angel stepped to the side, allowing the Buffy to clearly see who was standing behind him.

She studied the blonde haired woman in Angel's company. She had never seen her human visage, only the game face of the one who had manipulated her against Angel and when those machinations didn't succeed resulted to a branding a pair of clot .45's seeking to end the young slayer's life. She'd been dodging shots, ducking her cover until timely distractions, bought her time to find safety and lowered her attackers guard as she was then staked by the object of her own creation.

"Darla." The blonde spat out.

* * *

Well so much for a first impression. I hate to leave you hanging like this, especially seeing as how I seem to almost no followers or reviewers but I figure I needed a cliff hanger to keep things interesting.

Look for Crime and Punishment to be up in a few more weeks' time (I do recommend the same titled novel as well, it's a fantastic read- I think so) and as always leave your input on what's been up so far.

Lastly, if Whedon introduced Dracula into Buffy-verse I figured why don't I introduce Alucard (Castlevannia symphony of the Night is awesome ?)

btw- anyone interested in doing a crossover featuring Buffy and Richter Belmont ?


	5. Attack First Diplomacy

Disclaimer- I have said it before. Look back if you're interested

* * *

**Attack First Diplomacy**

Angel staggered back, his jaw on the receiving end of a lightning quick uppercut belonging to that of, at the moment, his trigger happy ex-girlfriend. Giving the vampire, no time recover, the Slayer followed up her initial blow with a roundhouse kick to her former beau's torso. The vampire landed on the ground, in a heap, at the foot of the steps leading up to 1630 Rovello Drive.

"Buffy please, let me-"

The slayer, oblivious to his words, instead turned her full attention on Darla, full battle mode; stake at the ready. The other blonde just barely dodged the thrust arm, the one with the weapon. Her escape route, under threat of injury, or worse yet; death, proved quite poor. Honing her instincts, sharpened by years of experience, the slayer grabbed Darla's other arm, twisting her around; pulling the former vampire into a full body hold, her back pressed firmly against the slayer's chest. Buffy's left arm, the one branding the stake, rounded in from the side, intent on delivering the finishing blow. Feeling the skin on skin contact; the feel of flesh against flesh, so warm and lifelike, so unlike Angel's icy cold touch, or that of any vampire, she ceased her attack mid strike Relinquishing her hold on the woman she knew only as Angel's sire, she stepped back and locked at her questioningly.

"Wait, you're-"

"Not a vampire." Darla finished. "Not anymore."

Turning, Buffy glanced over at Angel, who had since gotten back to his feet, left arm rubbing his chin gingerly.

"Tried to tell you." He said."

Buffy fixed him a cold stare. "Explain. Now."

* * *

The onlookers remained silent during the entirety of Angel's narrated ordeal. The quartet piled into the Summers dining room taking seats at the table. Buffy and Riley sat adjacent to each other, the slayer's new beau holding her hand. Darla took up position at the opposite side, an sense of uneasiness ever present, one to be expected on her part given the past between her and the other woman. Angel remained standing beside the single lone window of the room, pacing occasionally, shoulders still hunched and slightly bowed; a position of utter despair and complete hopelessness. It was an all too familiar display for the slayer.

He'd spared no detail, reliving the tale in its entirety, beginning with Darla's mysterious resurrection to her desire to once more becoming a vampire, his fight through the trials and the subsequent failure thereof, and of Darla's eventual acceptance of her inevitable death, almost welcome-like which was almost destroyed the machinations of Wolfram and Hart. A plot that, had not for Kylar's intervention whatever reason behind it, would have succeeded.

Buffy was nowhere oblivious to the relief that no doubt washed over her former love's face, when the woman who turned him was spared such a similar fate second time around. The mention of the warrior however, irked her, a thing that Riley was able to pick up on based on the expansion and contraction of muscles within her held arm.

"Another old boyfriend?" the former commando inquired.

The slayer shook her head slightly.

"Another pain in my ass" she retorted. "Some immortal being who sits on the sidelines and only takes action when it's convenient."

_Convenient for him. _She thought to herself. She'd learned of the name of the ominous stranger two years ago the day at the library after Giles sought out Angel's counsel after the man's actions towards Quentin Travers, in the aftermath of that coming of age test. It wasn't the first time he had made his presence known to her or the scoobies nor was it any less contrasting; the same monotone voice, the utter emptiness of his eyes and audacity to ignore them whenever they happened to question for answers. She thought they'd seen the last of him afterwards. Yet it was beginning to become evident all who enter her life don't simply disappear.

His curiosity sated, at least on that matter, Riley directed his focus towards Angel. "So why turn her into a vampire?"

"For the same reason they her back. To mess with my head."

The vampire's reply was eerily soft. Clearly he was still at a struggle dealing with Darla's remaining days, which lessened with each night.

Riley shot both slayer and vampire a questioning look.

"The work I do in L.A." the vampire continued "they see it as a threat; an intrusion on their territory."

"Still doesn't explain why not kill her outright? Or kill you for matter?" Riley interrupted.

"Because it would defy their purpose." Angel replied back angrily. "Being a military man you see a threat and your first instinct is neutralize it. Wolfram and Hart are a different breed. They thrive on despair and misery and enjoy causing it. What's more they secretly seek to turn me to their side. Or take me out the way, whichever possible. After the trials when Darla accepted her fate, had chosen to hold to life and humanity, I had once again gotten the better of Wolfram and Hart. So they decided to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, by having Drusilla turn Darla and make all my effort for naught." He paused slightly running a hand through his hair. "They almost succeed."

Buffy was both stunned and shocked by the vampire's words. Her look was almost accusing. Would Angel really have given in if Kylar hadn't shown up?

"Okay. So thanks to mister all high and mighty, she' still human. What now." Buffy questioned. Anger and annoyance replaced her earlier curiosity. "You still haven't told me why the two of you show up on my doorstep."

Angel hesitated. Here it was, the slayer's demand for the truth. The truth of the reason as to why he had come, why he sought her out after over half a year when the ordeal with Faith put a strain on their already dangerously thread hanging relation. He found himself hesitating. It was not surprising given Buffy's and Darla's past history. At that time he hadn't thought of how it would affect her, or if he could bring himself to ask outright. His entire focus was on desperately searching for a solution to make up for his failure. Darla may have come to terms that there was no way to save her but Angel still saw it as another failed attempt of his rather pathetic heroics. He was now struggling to voice out that reason aloud.

"He thinks Willow can help me." Darla, having remained utterly silent that whole while had now spoken up. "The sickness that's taken my body, the stage it's in. He thinks she might be able to rid me of it. Or slow it down."

At the sound of her friends name Buffy tensed up. She pulled her arm out of Riley's grasp. The other didn't protest; loosening his hold upon it. She stood, her eyes hardened, glancing from Angel to Darla and back again.

"Outside. Now." She spoke coldly.

* * *

Angel obediently followed Buffy out into the foyer and out the front door. Closing it behind him, he waited as the girl stood by the steps which descended to the pathway that lead from the sidewalk. Sensing the anger radiating from the young woman he braced himself for the entirety of the wrath of Buffy Summers that was to come.

Buffy stood at attention, arms at the sides fists clenched staring out into the evening life. She took yet another breath before letting it out seeking to calm her rather incensed demeanor, a technique that right now proved unsuccessful. Giving up on calming down she spun her heels looking to have it out with the vampire.

"Willow?" she demanded angrily. "You want Willow to help her. Do you know what she's done Willow? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA?!

Angel stood his ground. He'd be lying had he not expected this outburst in behavior. Darla's past actions with Buffy and her allies was painful albeit brief. The scars it left on the group both as a whole and individually hadn't healed. In truth he doubted they ever would, much like his own.

"Yes." He whispered. He hadn't known of the full details but Darla had briefly told him of that first night at the Bronze when she along with some of the other members of the order of Aurelius had taken a handful of school kids as offerings.

The slayer's face remained as hard as ever. "What do you know?" she shot back. Keeping her calm was getting to be more and more challenging. "Do you know she killed one Willow friends my first night in town? Almost killed her as well? WILLOW IS A PART OF THIS BECAUSE OF DARLA."

"No less different what I did." Angel voice was morose, as he recalled the memory. "And don't you dare try to tell me I had an excuse." He added sensing Buffy's intent to once again put in her two cents.

The Slayer stopped mid speech. It's been almost three years since they'd all suffered under the terror of Angel's soulless counterpart, the sadistic Angelus. The memories of that fateful spring, those four months had subsided, mostly anyway. Xander of course still wouldn't let go the past, his animosity towards Angel if anything increased post that endeavor. Surprisingly, Angel was the other person whom the experience stuck with.

Buffy knew she couldn't really blame him. Angel's photographic memory made it impossible to forget any one single act of his past, malevolent or otherwise. She hadn't expected he'd still be affected by it.

"Angel that wasn't entirely your fault-"

"It makes no difference." The vampire interrupted. "If I hadn't gotten too close to you, it could have been avoided and innocent lives wouldn't have been lost."

Buffy adamant self righteous nature increased. At the other end Angel's guilt intensified. And so the banter began.

* * *

While the former couple continued their barrage of words outside the house Riley remained in the dining room with Darla. The young man was fidgeting. The woman who had in some way attribute to Angel's dark deeds, and Buffy's pain was now sitting in the close proximity with him. Before joining the Initiative he'd never heard of vampires except in movies and he'd certainly never heard of a vampire being brought back to life even post his time with Maggie Walsh's outfit. Still being left alone with this stranger made him rather uneasy.

"So" he began, breaking the silence that presided over the room for the better part of twenty minutes "you knew Angel then ?/"

Darla shook her head slowly, looking back at the young man her expression half saddened, half apologetic.

"Not the one you know of." She spoke sadly.

* * *

"I can't understand why you insist on this, Angel" Buffy shouted. "Especially after everything she did to you. You live with a mountain of guilt and suffering, all courtesy of you know who and you still want to help her?"

"I can't just look the other way, Buffy. I'm not made that way" Angel countered.

Both parties fell silent for a moment. Just as a figure was making her way up the path to the steps of the residence.

"Buffy?, what's going on? Why are you out—"?

Buffy and Angel both turned their attention to the sound of the voice, one that belonged to no other than Joyce Summers.

"Mom?" Buffy uttered incredulously

Joyce glanced briefly at Buffy before settling on the figure. One she wasn't expecting to see.

"Angel."

The manner in which spoke the vampire's name left little to the imagination. She was obviously not pleased with his presence.

* * *

Finally. I hadn't written in over four months. My sincerest and deepest apologies to my loyal readers but my muse had deserted me. I know it's a lame excuse but I had a hard time with this chapter. I couldn't decide as to include the entire Scooby gang or just have Buffy in on this one. I've settled on just Buffy for now. Up next in this story Joyce's reaction to seeing Angel and Dawn's two cents on her mother's secret involvement in Angel's departure and we get into Buffy's problems regarding Glory and others. May finally have Spike make an appearance.

FYI several references to Buffy's knowledge of Kylar are from the prequel fic My Own Worst Enemy, which is still in development. I am still working on chapter two of that story and it's really hard to write to make it into a multi chapter event. Hopefully by the end of the month I will have something more on that. I'm also working on Familiar Words which is another Angel and Dawn interchange (get your minds out the gutter the few of you) nothing romantic, just another family, sibling-like type as my first one.

This reminds me. Regarding my other story entitled "Remembrance": Can I get a review?, Can I?


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